


Breakfast at Gregory's

by soda_dreamer



Category: House M.D.
Genre: Best Friends, Breakfast, Cute, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Romantic Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-01
Updated: 2015-06-01
Packaged: 2018-04-02 09:34:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4055119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soda_dreamer/pseuds/soda_dreamer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's the morning after their first night together, and House is making Wilson his favourite I’m-slightly-hungover-because-I-can’t-hold-my-rum breakfast: pancakes with macadamia nuts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breakfast at Gregory's

Wilson leaned back on the sofa and sighed, contentedly. He turned his head to the right and looked into the kitchen where House was currently stood frying some streaky bacon and humming a tune that he recognised but couldn’t quite place. The sizzling and smell of the bacon coupled with the sunlit shape of Greg standing there without needing his cane made Wilson smile. His life these past few weeks were the closest to absolute happiness that he’d ever experienced.

Wilson had moved in the day after House had woken from his ketamine induced coma and been sent home. He wanted to keep an eye on his friend and make sure he stayed off the Vicodin this time and as he was between homes anyway it just made sense. It was tough to begin with as House instinctively wanted to reach for the pills every time he felt the slightest twinge in his leg but Wilson was there to make sure he stayed clean and to give the ketamine time to ensure it had worked. It was during a difficult night, about the fifth or sixth day in (he wasn’t sure which) when House was screaming at Wilson yet again to get him some Vicodin and he instinctively reached for another hidden pill stash when he grabbed his hand and… They both stopped. Something happened. Whether it was Wilson being tired from a week of being constantly berated, House being in pain or withdrawal or suffering from after effects from the Ketamine (or, hell, 17 years of longing), when Wilson grabbed his hand they both stopped, looked at each with eyes they’d never used for each other before, leaned in and kissed without hesitation. They kissed for longer and harder than either of them expected, House’s 10 day old stubble scratching Wilson’s mostly clean shaven face and Wilson running his hand through House’s salt-and-pepper hair.

House was now moving swiftly around the kitchen without even the slightest hint of pain. Sure, he still had a slight limp but then having that much muscle removed from your leg would make that happen. Adding the chopped macadamias to the pancake batter House began to quietly and joyfully sing out loud as he proceeded to pour the batter into the pan. “Never want to be like papa, working for the boss every night and day.”

“House, what are you making?” Wilson asked

“Your favourite I’m-slightly-hungover-because-I-can’t-hold-my-rum breakfast.” House responded.

“How do you know my favourite breakfast after a night of too much rum?”

“Come on, I’ve known you for 17 years. I know you always wear a blue tie on your birthday because it reminds you of the bike you had when you were 10; I know that you give blood under your brother’s name because you hope that someday someone will remember his name as doing a good deed. We’ve collectively been through two of your divorces together…”

“Soon to be three!” Wilson said, interrupting.

“Soon to be three. Anyway, my point is, I know what you enjoy having for breakfast when you’re slightly hungover.” House said

“Fair point. You do know me well.” Wilson said in agreement.

“Practically biblical.” House replied.

“Don’t put words in my mouth.” Wilson said with a slightly impish tone.

“It’ll be more than words if you eat all your breakfast. Only good boys get dessert.” House said grinning.

“And I’m fairly sure there are certain passages in the bible that might have an issue with, you know, us as we are now.”

“And there are Rabbi’s that knew you as a child that would have an issue with the bacon you’re about to have with your pancakes. Why piss off one major religion when you can piss off two in a single morning?”

House walked in carrying two steaming plates of fresh pancakes, handing one to Wilson as he sat down.

“Also, don’t you think we’re past calling each other by our surnames by now? We saw each other wearing nothing more than a smile no less than 55 minutes ago, let’s dispense with the ‘House’ and ‘Wilson’ thing. We’ll save those for when we play Doctor.”

“Ok… Greg.” Wilson couldn’t help but smile when he said that.

“Will you name me in your divorce proceedings? You totally could. You could counter Julie’s infidelity with that tennis coach. Play divorce trumps, really rub it in. Her adultery pushed you into the arms of the handsome doctor. You’ll get an extra 10k, easy.”

“You know, Bonnie blamed you so it wouldn’t be without precedent.”

“Your honour, he was tennis through and through to him, love meant nothing.”

“That is a truly terrible tennis pun, Greg.”

“I’m here all week.” House said, between mouthfuls of pancake. “Be sure to tip your waitress.”


End file.
